


Ambrosia: Food of the Gods, Drink of the Damned

by Anonymous



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Biting, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Cannibalism, M/M, Prompt Fill, idk i suck at tags, no betas we die like garrosh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:54:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29507919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: His thoughtful blue eyes were intently trained on him, as his soft pink lips yielded a quiet, contextually vulgar request. Nathanos couldn’t help but admire the impossibly straight face the priest retained as he spoke. Not one of his fragile bones trembled. It was Nathanos, who instead, felt (an equivalent of) lightheadedness towards Anduin’s next three words.“Please claim me.”
Relationships: Nathanos Blightcaller/Anduin Wrynn
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18
Collections: Anonymous





	Ambrosia: Food of the Gods, Drink of the Damned

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WaterSeraphim](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaterSeraphim/gifts).
  * Inspired by [or do we keep on playing nice](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28105467) by [WaterSeraphim](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaterSeraphim/pseuds/WaterSeraphim). 



> this scenario has been haunting my mind for a good enough amount of time for my brain to tell me to [kinda] come out of the shadows
> 
> side note: let's just ignore how nathanos even got to start shagging the king of the alliance because i dont know either

He never would have expected to experience this _sensation_ ever again. Not since a scar was driven through his love's homeland. Certainly not after the Gorger assailed his home.

After his second ascension into Lady Windrunner's ranks, the Blightcaller dutifully accepted the fact that some of the more primal, carnal urges of life would not torment him the same ways in his undeath. An instinct to survive—rather, _to remain_ —still existed. An essence of loyalty to one’s own permeated him, as it did those with second opportunity from the Dark Lady. Drives for success, in its many glorious forms, certainly still prevailed, especially in the Banshee Queen’s name. And of course, bloodlust endured; through its hosts’ journey through life anywhere in the Cosmos, through death beyond the veil, and in undeath back home.

Nathanos remembered well the potent sensation of a kill. How powerful he felt watching flesh give way to a sharpened arrowhead—or his own teeth—and revealing a steady crimson stream of a creature’s lifeblood. In more recent memories, how delicious a final cry was as he eagerly lapped up the nutrients his decaying form used to keep together.

The Queen’s Champion was now hardly embarrassed by the memory of Sylvanas finding him in the Eastweald; now proud that his Lady had transformed him: mentally, physically, and spiritually. He no longer inhabited his old rotting form, rather his distant cousins’ which he strived to preserve. He took as much pride in his appearance as he did in his first life: He proudly drank his fill of blood to sustain the bones and muscles that crafted into such a lethal figure.

This time, as he drank his ambrosia, he did not expect its source to be so…willing.

He never would have expected to be on the same side as a living man ever again. Certainly not in the same bed as one.

The young king had looked at him from across the vast room in his normally professional seated position at his desk. His thoughtful blue eyes were intently trained on him, as his soft pink lips yielded a quiet, contextually vulgar request. Nathanos couldn’t help but admire the impossibly straight face the priest retained as he spoke. Not one of his fragile bones trembled. It was Nathanos, who instead, felt (an equivalent of) lightheadedness towards Anduin’s next three words.

“Please _claim_ me.”

Anduin’s accentuation of his second word left no doubt in the Blightcaller’s mind as to what he meant. He was only startled that the priest _wanted_ this. Of course, he wasn’t averse to the suggestion; it had been on his mind since the odd pair had started fucking regularly.

Nathanos had always been a very… _enthusiastic_ lover. In life, his heart would swell with pride when he saw his bite still fresh on a lover’s skin the morning after a good shag. Distributing a sensation which borders on pain and pleasure was most exhilarating—being on the receiving end came as a close second. But since his reanimation, his mouth and teeth have found…alternative uses.

His mouth still communicates; though instead of relaying messages to his fellow rangers of Quel’Thalas, he barks various orders to soldiers from nearly every corner of Azeroth. Instead of welcoming allies with a charming smile, he’d intimidate foes with a snarl. Instead of savoring elven delicacies or enjoying a hearty family recipe, his teeth will dig into flesh seeking a ruby-colored treasure, looted from an unlucky victim.

The priest before him was no victim nor foe. The golden-haired one was familiar, a comfort, a luxury. Nathanos had surely grown attached. Anduin yielded to Nathanos gracefully, completely reversing their professional daily roles. Sometimes Anduin’s teeth would find his undead flesh; muffling his angelic screams of pleasure in Nathanos’ shoulder when he wasn’t facing the royal bedspread. He never bit down too hard, just enough to leave a mark which would last no longer than the slightly raised traces of his nails.

But Anduin’s bite was extremely different from the Blightcaller’s. They both knew that. Yet the king had still made his request, entirely sure of what he was asking. Nathanos was momentarily shocked by the request. But he was more than happy to oblige.

He had neither vocally confirmed nor denied his intention to indulge the young king’s fantasy, leaving the king in a suspenseful wonder while he received Nathanos while pressed into his mattress. Anduin did not press the issue during this escapade, which almost taunted Nathanos. A potential explanation crossed the former ranger’s mind; one in which Anduin somehow new his unholy prayer would soon be answered. However, the priest may not have begged for the _claiming_ , simply due to fact that his mouth was otherwise occupied by moaning incoherently into Nathanos’ calloused hand.

He had his bedmate pinned facedown into the soft mattress, thighs spread just around his own, and the expressive face visible, turned to the side. Since they began, Anduin’s eyes were tightly screwed shut, as per usual. Nathanos had once asked him if he wanted to be blindfolded, to which Anduin replied, “I want to be able to look, when I can bear it.”

Before long, the odd pair were joining at their normal tempo, filling the king’s chambers with grunts from above, moans from below, and the wooden headboard of the king’s luxurious bed smacking repetitively against the stone wall.

As the king’s lovely noises became more erratic, Nathanos’ mind wandered to the beautiful, vital oasis beneath Anduin’s fair skin. He began craving a taste, nearly drooling at the curiosity of how sweet the light-touched blood could be. His eyes moved from the angelic face half-covered by his hand, to the toned juncture between the shoulder and neck. It was tempting, ever so tempting.

As this session drew nearer to completion, Nathanos decided that he would be the ungodly deity that would answer this unholy prayer. He was certain that any rulers of the Cosmos were certainly averting their gazes at this odd joining.

He nudged the targeted area with his nose; Anduin’s sweet scent pleasured his nose. As his movements began to still, Nathanos removed his hand from the priest’s mouth and gripped the slender waist tightly. His ears ached with the anticipation of Anduin’s song. Just to tease the king, he probed the area again, this time, with his tongue; cherishing the delighted squeal that came from the form underneath him.

With precise timing, he bit down harshly into the delicate flesh, receiving both a vocal and a pleasured release from the king, as well as the sweetest nectar he could have ever imagined. He didn’t stop at just a puncture, he gave Anduin what he sensed the priest truly wanted. He tore deeper into the flesh, relishing the subsequent pleased cries of his name and numerous curses. For extra measure, he dragged his nails down Anduin’s sensitive sides, not quite aware of if he was drawing blood with his hands as well, but aware that Anduin could heal himself all the same.

Nathanos released Anduin from the vice of his bite once his jaw miraculously started aching, and his thirst was pleasurably quenched. The labored breathing from the breath, mixed with quite the assortment of profanities, was well worth it.

He pushed himself off the smaller form, just enough so that he could turn Anduin onto his back. Anduin’s blue eyes were nearly eclipsed by his enlarged pupils, Nathanos noticed, as the priest’s eyes darted everywhere, from the blood on his chin, to the fresh stains on the sheets.

As the pair regarded each other in their unconventional afterglow, Nathanos savored the taste of the king’s blood on his lips. He couldn’t help but let his stained tongue collect the sweetness which was surely now covering his face. He retained eye contact with the king below him as he did, watching the priest shudder pleasurably.

Nathanos smiled. Of all the things he anticipated doing with the High King, this was certainly not one of them.


End file.
